


mother, savior

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Hypervigilance, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Intrusive Thoughts, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Maria needs to save her daughter.
Relationships: Maria Reynolds & Susan Reynolds (b.1785)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Genprompt Bingo Round 17, Ladies Bingo 2019





	mother, savior

**Author's Note:**

> **ladies bingo** : scars  
>  **gen prompt bingo** : fate  
>  **allbingo's people watching fest** : fears and anxieties
> 
> largely me projecting my relationship with my mom on these two. i also accidentally deleted theo jr out of history. whoops
> 
> enjoy!

Maria needs to save Susan.

Every time a man does as much as look at her daughter, a cold flash of panic goes through her body, making her shudder. It's not her fault, really, she tells herself— she wants to have her avoid her own fate as much possible. She can't end up like she has. she has to find a good, loving husband, those mythical ones Theodosia convinces her (or tries to) that Mr. Burr is.

"Mr. Burr wants to teach me French," Susan tells her. She's only six, curls and wide smiles, her eyes sparkling with a happiness Maria wishes she had. As long as Susan has it, she can't be too envious. She envies Theodosia, how she laughs and talks about her late husband through sips of expensive wine, how she mentions him being  _ awful _ without a care in the world. 

She wishes she could be careless. But being careless would mean letting Susan end up like her.

She tucks one of her daughter's hairs behind her ear. "That's good, honey bee." She pauses for a few seconds, swallowing. "You have to tell me if he does anything you find weird, okay? If he looks at you weird or touches your shoulder too much, all that kind of stuff, okay?"

Susan pouts and leans in to kiss her cheek."Of course, momma."

Maria wants to teach her how to say no. How to tell Mr. Burr to piss off, if it ever gets to that. (She wants to think Mr. Burr is a decent man, really, she does, but she is not going to trust him just like that, much less with her daughter.) But she knows men don't like the world no, that they will choose to ignore it through anything and everything.

It is useless to tell her daughter to say no. She just has to pick up the pieces if she ever confides on her that a man took her against her will, that her husband beats her black and blue, anything that could happen in the following years.

She thinks of Alexander Hamilton, that man she slept with for a year or so, that man she's  _ felt _ for, but she ran and looked for a lawyer to help her divorce from her husband before anything else. James used her for this all; Alexander used her for his own relief. But he wasn't as bad. He was almost sweet.

Maybe Susan will meet someone like Hamilton when she's older. Maybe that's a husband that would work, that wouldn't hit her sweetheart. She doesn't like to think about someone touching her daughter, but it plagues her thoughts always. Before Susan grew up into a little girl, six years of age, she frequently had vivid images of herself going through this again in her brain.

But now Susan is growing, and now all her brain delves into is the possibility of her daughter being doomed to the same fate as her. The thought makes her riddled with nausea, stomach clenching with pain.

* * *

Susan must remember a little bit. 

She was far too young to  _ remember _ , really, but she still had the first three years of her life be under James' rule. She has to have a semblance of an idea of how bad it all was.

"What was daddy like, momma?" she asks, sitting on her lap, swinging her long, lean legs up and down.

She stops herself from shuddering.

"He…" she starts. She sucks in a breath. How is she supposed to explain to her baby what her father was like? She's too young, too innocent, to know the extent of his abuses, of the fate that her mother sealed for her. She'll die in poverty before letting any man touch her daughter in exchange for money. "He wasn't nice."

"He wasn't?" she echoes.

"Yes." A pause; it seems to stretch on forever. "That's why you don't know him, baby. Because he's not good, okay? You deserve a better father than him."

"Okay," she replies. She can tell talking about James tires her out, because she leans in and wraps her arms around her. "I've the best momma in the world, though."

Maria tears up and she hugs her daughter back, clinging onto her and kissing the top of her head.

(She knows she's not the best mother in the world, but it helps that her daughter believes so.)

* * *

"How are classes with Mr. Burr going?" she asks, taking a sip of tea.

She's still staying at the Burrs, as much as she believes she's bothering them. Theodosia insists there's no issue, so she doesn't go and find the cheapest place possible; she just stays in the guest's room with her baby.

Susan nods eagerly, so her defenses go down somewhat. The fact she doesn't doubt makes it mean that nothing has been going on. Probably. She can't quite just strike out the possibility just by one gesture. No, that'd be foolish.

"He knows a lot of French!" she chirps happily. "He's been teaching me the numbers. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinc…!"

Maria does not know a lick of French. She only knows how to read and write, and basic maths. That's all— her parents never bothered with a language, much less one she's ended up associating with people of higher class than her. 

"That's good!" she says, taking her in her arms. "I'm glad you've been learning. Is it easy?"

Susan squirms under her hold, and she almost pulls away to check for a reaction in her face, for her to have gone limp. But she giggles, and she needs to stop assuming every man is out to hurt her and her baby. 

"Yes!" she says. "It's really easy. The pro - pronun -"

"Pronunciation? "

"That," Susan says, nodding. "That is funny. Mr. Burr has a funny accent when he speaks French."

"I'm glad he's entertaining," she says, putting her back down and looking through the kitchen at the Burrs' place for something to eat. 

She wants to ask,  _ has he touched you? Has he put his hands on you? If he has, I will take matters into my own hands, I swear I will. _ But she knows it's not wise to ask her baby that. She has to watch her, watch Mr. Burr, and she has to keep her paranoia and vigilance to herself for the most part. She can't even confide in Theodosia, because she will be upset that her perfectly fine husband is being thought of that way. 

"Mhm," Susan agrees.

She leans down to kiss the top of her head, scratching at her scalp as she tries to take a break from all the thoughts that consume her every waking hour.


End file.
